I used to smoke joints
With the fly on the wall inside my mind,
Until she told me
She was only capable of loving her dog.
She tattooed my hand in a stranger’s saliva
To show me how free music is.
She told me “If you aren’t living on the edge
Then you are taking up too much room,”
So I followed her to California
Where I saw the earth’s curve and realized;
The edge is overrated.
Eleven years high;
Four days to overdose.
With Sailor Jerry’s and Molly’s eyes,
I refused the line off her ass,
And the one off her tit,
As I turned my head
To see the dead bodies
On our way to Vegas.
After that she left me in Wyoming.